


Easy A

by hoeratio (lapoesieestdanslarue)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, POV Outsider, Secret Relationship, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:02:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21661864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lapoesieestdanslarue/pseuds/hoeratio
Summary: There’s only one tiny problem with Professor Solo’s class, and really it istiny, and with time she’ll learn to get over it and it actually doesn’t matter what she thinks because she'llhaveto get over it because, well, it’s him. It’s Benjamin Solo. That’s the problem. The man is a terror.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 35
Kudos: 305





	Easy A

**Author's Note:**

> Ironically I wrote this instead of making a dent in my colossal amount of college work so let's hope it pays off!

Look, don’t get Rose wrong, really she was happy to be taking the class. She knew that even being in the same university where Benjamin Solo taught was a one way ticket to a career in architecture, but being in his actual class, being a genuine tutee of his was veritable gold dust. In fact, no sooner had she been accepted to attend his classes on applied theories of architectural paradoxes than she had offers for internship interviews flooding her inbox. She knew she was one of the lucky ones. She knew she should ignore everything else and just be thankful for what this opportunity would grant her. 

But.

There’s only one tiny problem with Professor Solo’s class, and really it is _tiny_ , and with time she’ll learn to get over it and it actually doesn’t matter what she thinks because she'll have to get over it because, well, it’s _him_. It’s Benjamin Solo. That’s the problem. The man is a terror. 

He strikes fear into even the coldest academics, his sharp and no-nonsense approach often leaves junior classmen quaking in their boots. Essays and assignments return shredded to pieces, sophisters leave office hours and thesis reviews in tears. Solo can practically _sniff_ phones out and godforbid you get caught. Strictly no laptops for note taking in his class (the sound of the key annoy him), no use of online resources for referencing (learning how to reference by hand builds ‘character’ but loses about five hours sleep, which, secretly Rose thinks he takes some kind of sick pride in) and _no_ slacking on building codes. Building codes were now a veritable Bible to Rose. Even the ones in Guatemala. Solo took no shit, no shortcuts and no sympathy. 

Only a few months in, and already she’s come a hair’s breadth from breaking too many times to count. Her blueprints returned covered in red pen, her mazes returned unmarked bar for one crushing word in damning red ink- ‘ _really?’_. It didn’t help that seminars were run by the man himself as well, not trusting his TA with that much, and so leaving Rose under his near constant, scrutinous gaze.

The break for reading week comes with no sense of relief or joy. She’s swamped with reading, constructing and more reading, to the extent that Dr. Hux from Drama asks her if she actually has a home to go to during one of her late night stays at the library, an all-too regular occurrence now.

“I can’t do this man,” Finn is muttering, his breath shaky as they wait outside the lecture hall for their first session after reading week. Professor Solo is two minutes late and it has everyone frazzled, bating their breath for what is sure to be a terror of paramount proportions. “I’m being serious. I think he’s like sunlight, or radiation. Too much will kill you. I’m dying, here. I’d rather be back at Snoke’s for Economic policy.”

Poe snorts. “The hell you would. You weren’t in Enterprise with Calrissian. That was some nasty shit.”

“What do you reckon is keeping the ice monster, anyways?” Someone asks. They’re a small group, only ten, because Solo is highly selective and will only take the best (or, the worst and have his own sick pleasure with them, which is becoming a more viable possibility in Rose’s mind with every passing day), but the sheer workload he throws on them leaves social lives a distant memory. They know each other as war comrades, banded together in a shared trauma, a bond of which names are transcended. 

“Probably caught some freshman breathing in his direction and decided to cut them a new one.” They laugh, gallows humour, because soon enough it will be them. Rose knows no fear anymore, anxiety a near constant companion that she nearly thinks of it as a friend. Nothing can phase her now. Solo made her feel two inches high in class over her choice of wood panelling for a cabin house and now she can’t hear the words ‘mahogany’ again without her heart racing.

Their laughter is cut off almost immediately by the familiar sound of winged Tom Ford's clipping on the ground and the waft of Armani in the air. Appearing like a horseman of the apocalypse Professor Benjamin Solo appears, turning around the corner to walk through them and into the theatre. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he mutters, and Rose swears she could get whiplash from how fast her head flies back at that in sheer shock. Solo _never_ apologises. Moreover, Solo is never without his suit jacket, but now it lies across his arm. His waistcoat is unbuttoned. His shirt ever so slightly untucked at the back giving him a ducks tail. The rest of the class fall in behind him, and as she passes the podium she nearly trips over in shock. 

Rifling through papers, there on his pale and slender finger is a glint of gold-- a _ring._

Solo looks up at the sound of her mid-step stumbling, glares at her open mouth and sends her scurrying away. Finn frowns, asking her silently what’s the matter, and as she leans down she mumurmers through the side of her mouth “look at the ring.”

“What?”

“I said _look at the ring.”_

“Ms. Tico,” Professor Solo’s crips voice calls out, prompting Rose to go stiff. “If you’re done, I’d like to begin. What, are you paying student loans to gossip? Christ.”

They stare at him in open-mouthed shock. Solo has never been so _nice._

~*~

After that, rumours fly.

“I bet she’s some stuffy professor and the only reason she’s with him is to get tenure,” Dylan says as they wait for their seminar.

“Are you kidding me? No way. She’s got to be some kind of Russian ex-assassin who still does international jobs on the low down.”

“Maybe she’s a cougar.”

“Hey, maybe it’s Dr. Hux’s ex-wife. You know the other Dr. Hux? Phasma? Her and Solo always seemed freakishly close.”

“Maybe it’s Hux,” Finn fires back, and they laugh.

It’s a nice moment of respite from the constant stress, though it’s quickly broken by Solo arriving again. 

“What are you waiting for?” he snaps. “The buildings won’t make themselves.”

Back to normal, then.

~*~

Talk of Solo’s wife continues throughout the semester, and it’s almost a nice distraction to have, no longer are pre-class waits filled by bitching and nerves, but increasingly hilarious ideas and theories that spiral outwards, growing legs and arms. 

But one day, their questions are answered.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, Professor Solo was on time and back to usual ways. He stood at the desk, setting up the powerpoint, Rose half-zoned out, when the doors to lecture hall swung open. 

Ten pairs of eyes swiveled to the side of the room, to land on a small, brunette woman standing in it’s doorway. She wore an easy going but slightly awkward grin, and wore loose fitting jeans and a baggy t-shirt, hanging off her shoulder so you could make out a single, black bra-strap. Her brown hair was long and tied into a messy bun that sat atop her head and her eyes were blue, and kind, and looked at them all with a sense of familiarity and ease. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, smiling sheepishly, her voice quiet and low but carrying through the theatre. “I just came to give you this.” That was directed at Solo himself, who, surprisingly, seemed unfazed by this occurrence. Instead of ripping in to the intruder (Rose still had nightmares about the time Dr. Hux attempted to sit in) he stood up, hands in pockets, and offered her the slightest quirk of his lips. 

The woman strode over, holding out a USB key. “You left this at home.” She answers Solo’s murmured thanks with a smile of her own, before turning to face the class. “You must be Ben’s fourth years. He speaks about you so much I feel like I already know you.” She beams at them. “I’ll let you get back to it. And I’ll see you all at the graduates ball.” Another winning smile, before looking over his shoulder and back to Professor Solo. “I’ll see you at home.”

And then, as if by magic, she’s gone, disappeared in a matter of steps, the door shutting closed behind him. Everyone is slack jawed, and Professor Solo snaps at them to pay attention, but his cheeks are still flushed red. Rose stares, with abject horror, at the ring on his finger, as the realisation dawns on her that the other woman wore the very same one.

~*~

The woman (Solo’s wife? Friend? Lover?) is never seen or heard from again, and her existence leaves the students more confused than abated at this supposed answer to their questions about their professors’ personal life. 

“Maybe it’s not like, a wedding ring,” Poe reasons, “Maybe it’s like a cult thing?”

Rose shakes her head. “What cult do you know denotes itself by Tiffany?”

“I guess we’ll never know.”

Rose sighs. This course was so much more than she signed up for.

~*~

“Excuse me,” a warm voice says from behind her. “I wonder if you could tell me where I might find the Architectural department?”

Rose turns around to answer, and stops when she sees the owner of the voice. That woman, from before, who has Professor Solo’s _ring_ , is standing in front of her. She looks different-- she has make-up on, this time, and is wearing a sleek black dress. She looks _beautiful,_ enough to rival Solo’s own austere handsomeness.

“Um,” she stammers.

“Rey,” a cooler, crips voice, one that still strikes the fear of God into her. 

The other woman-- _Rey,_ apparently-- straightens up, face immediately melting into a lovesick smile. “Darling,” she grins. “You look dashing.”

Solo comes up behind her, two flutes of champagne in his hands, and passes one to Rey, completely with a kiss on his cheek. “Hi,” he greets, impossibly soft.

“Hi,” Rey returns, equally as infatuated. “Are you going to introduce us?”

Professor Solo turns to look at Rose, the tips of his ears blushed red. “Ah, yes, this is--”

“Wait, let me guess.” Rey takes a sip of his champagne, looking at Rose with calculating eyes. “Rose?”

“You know who I am?” she blurts out, unable to keep her shock to herself.

Rose grins, if slightly confused. “Of course I do. I know who all of you are.”

“You _do?_ ”

“Sure. You’re all Ben talks about. It’s like you’re his second kids. Bar the cat.”

“I don’t like the cat,” Professor Solo-- _Ben--_ objects, face slowly going redder.

“Ben, you love the cat. Hey, though, I heard your capstone was amazing. That thing with open spaces sounded so clever, Ben couldn’t shut up about. Keep going and he’ll have you planning our next redesign.” Rey is…. Saying things and laughing and smiling and winking at here and it can’t be _real,_ it can’t be happening because Solo isn’t…. Solo doesn’t have _feelings,_ he’s hardly sentient at all, he just switches on, terrorizes them, and then goes back to his pod bay.

But he’s not shutting down or malfunctioning or… anything, instead he’s just rolling his eyes and saying “That was just an _idea_ after you said you wanted to keep the Brownstone’s front the same.”

“Oh, so kind,” Rey mock-swoons.

“Wait,” Rose cuts them off. “When I first gave you my proposal you told me it was a disgrace. That my ideas where infantile and reductive. You told Poe that his wasn’t fit for a shanty town and you made Finn present his in front of the class when you know he hates that and then you tore it to pieces. What gives?”

Solo, at least, has the decency to look shamed, whereas Rey just looks at her in sheer confusion. “Ben does that?”

“Yes!” Rose exclaims, sounding only slightly out of control. “Why do you look so surprised about this?”

“Because Ben’s the nicest person I’ve ever met.”

Maybe Rose’s drink has been spiked. She knew that guy at the bar looked shifty. Maybe this is all a dream, or a horrific, twisted trip. “He _what._ ”

“I’m serious.” Rey is looking at her with such earnestness, like a teacher to a child. Professor Solo, for his part, is flushing red. “He cares so much about you all that I can hardly get him to talk about anything else in the evenings. He’s always staying in the office late to make sure your materials are updated and arguing with the librarians to get more books in. And, you know, he does all that while still trying to cook dinner every night and getting the environmentally-friendly housing plans for Middle Eastern countries off the ground and holding us all up and.” Rey shakes her head. “I don’t know what to tell you, I--”

“No,” Solo interrupts, and Rose doesn’t think she’s ever heard his voice sound so… normal. Usually it’s ice cold, or breaking the sound barrier. “She has a point.” He turns to face her. “I’m sorry if you think I’m being too harsh on you. But you’re exceptional students. I make Finn stand up because if he can’t present his ideas to his classmates he’ll never manage in a corporate environment. Poe’s idea _wasn’t_ fit for a shanty town. He seemed to show no holistic consideration about what he was creating despite the fact that that’s what the lecture was about, and he had to learn that you need to sacrifice aesthetics for function with such limited materials. And you. Well, you know.”

Rose could cry. She could honestly nearly cry. “No, I don’t know.”

Now Solo looks at her like _she’s_ confused. “Rose, you’re an incredible architect. You’re ideas are revolutionary. So to see you resort to basic foundational ideas to play it safe just to pass is infuriating. All you need is the push, and you’re there. I submitted your final idea for submission to the Buckminster Fuller Institute of Design. I think you’re going to do some really exceptional things. You’ve been a pleasure to teach.” He sticks out his hand, and woodenly Rose takes it. 

He nods as they let go, letting that be the end of it, before turning back to Rey. “Can we leave this joint? I’m starved.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Rey admits sheepishly. “It was wonderful to meet you Rose, I hope we’ll see each other soon.”

“Goodnight,” she says dumbly. “Um- Thanks. Thank you.”

They turn to leave, before Solo looks back at her. “Nobody’s going to believe you when you try to tell them this. But, um. Try. Please.”

She nods, numb, as she watches them walk away. Rey is whispering something in Solo’s ear, hand wrapped around his waist, Rey tightly tucked into his side. Solo, for his part, is smiling broadly and blushing as they step out onto the pavement together, under the shelter of a shared umbrella. 

They won’t believe her when she tries to tell them. But maybe it’s better that way. Maybe Benjamin Solo exists better in these quiet moments of a shared, private love than he does behind a podium. That’s okay, Rose reckons, she likes him better like this, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments greatly appreciated! 
> 
> [say hi on tumblr!](https://h-ratio.tumblr.com)


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